The cave was cool in the predawn. Dirthamen sat near the entrance his gaze locked on the dark sky. He could see it; the others were gathering in the one moment of peace shared between the nine of them. The ceremony to reinforce the seal on the Abyss.

Dirthamen closed his eyes and let the images of his family swirl around his sight. His heart ached with longing to stand beside them during this time. Pain stabbed at his heart as he saw his "twin" speaking with June. It was all too easy to hear the argument between them.

The others were arriving as well. One by one. None coming together. Dirthamen felt the pain stab deeper. How easy it would be to reset the past, to make it so they never drifted apart and how impossible. The means to do so would destroy this world as surely as the futures taking root this day.

"Hey there!"

Dirthamen moved a heartbeat before he would have been slapped in the back. "Mahvir," he stated and looked over his shoulder at the younger man.

"Ah, come on, why did you move?" Mahvir huffed. He flopped down next to Dirthamen and folded his arms across his chest.

Dirthamen turned his gaze back on the predawn sky.

"Hmm," Mahvir opened one eye. "What's so interesting about the sky? Are you waiting for the seal renewal? It'll be hard to see for us."

"No, just thinking on the war with the Shadow Ones," Dirthamen sighed and looked away from the sky. His heart ached at the images of his family as they had been during the war with the Shadow Ones. The very foundations of any elvhen was within their family.

"You always have your head in the past," Mahvir grumbled. "You really need to learn to let go."

"I have let go," Dirthamen stated as he looked back at Mahvir. Though, he knew it wasn't really the same letting go the younger man spoke of it, Dirthamen had released himself from the power of his previous position. Still, there was a lingering feeling he should have stayed. He knew that path was one to the surest paths to the destruction of their People. Yet, what paths remained which didn't lead to the destruction of all they knew?

"Right?" Mahvir rolled his eyes at the ceiling. Mahvir leaned in closer, his eyes bright as he tapped his nose. "You need to learn to live in the moment. Not in the past."

Dirthamen frowned. In the moment? "You mean to enjoy what is in the now and not looking back on what has been or forward to what could be," Dirthamen stated.

"Yes!" Mahvir threw up his hands in joy. "See, this is how it's going to be, your new name among us is Sahlin." Mahvir grinned, looking as if he owned the world in giving Dirthamen this name.

"So, I am to be called what you're trying to teach me to live in the time frame of." Dirthamen sighed. "Very well. I do take it that is why you're called 'Mahvi,' then?" It was politer to asked the question than to bluntly state facts as he had been. Dirthamen already knew the young man was called Mahvir because he could only live in the moment.

Dirthamen looked away from the boy. What was the point to learning to live in the moment? His sight snapped to where his family was gathered. He was dead to them, to all of them. Perhaps, it was best to just fade and leave the events to unfold without him there.

"Okay," Mahvir huffed. "What are you sulking about now, Sahlin?"

Sulking? Perhaps, Dirthamen was sulking. Perhaps there was reason for it. There was nothing left to live for. He had failed in trying to protect the children from the harshness of the world. Too many had fallen into slavery. His small, hidden efforts to save those children he could, never even made a difference. Only Solas's efforts did and those efforts had moved fast, tearing apart their family with clumsy hands.

The searing pain of his brother's dagger still burned through the healing wound on Dirthamn's side. His brother's enraged features. Did Dirthamen deserve to live?

Dirthamen felt a sharp tug through time itself. His eyes snapped open but he wasn't fast enough to dodge the hand grabbing hold of his tattered collar. He was yanked to his feet.

"All right, Sahlin," Mahvir started. "You're going to have your first lesson in getting back on your feet." He stalked out of the cave.

Dirthamen let out a low breath. He glanced at the others in the cave. The cold eyes of Etha bored into him. She titled her head, tell him to go after Mahvir.

A scowl twitched at the corners of Dirthamen's lips. A short flare of annoyance shot through him. Then, it eased back. He was no one here. He had to remind himself he wasn't Dirthamen to this group. He was just another useless mouth to feed.

He followed Mahvir out of the cave. The coolness of predawn would soon be swept aside. Dirthamen looked out across the landscape. In the distance he could just make out the sanctuary Solas had belt for freed slaves.

"We're heading that way," Mahvir stated beside Dirthamen. "We just have too careful of the itch weed. Fen'Harel normally gives up some supplies then we're able to continue on our way. But it will be a few weeks before we leave the cave."

Dirthamen looked away from the sanctuary. They were heading towards Fen'Harel. A shiver raced through him. He could see the hatred in Solas's pale gaze the moment he glimpsed Dirthamen with this group. No matter his ragged clothes and shortened hair, to his Uncle – no, Dirthamen shoved the title from his mind – to Fen'Harel, he would always be one of the power hungry members of their family.

"All right!" Mahvir clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "Now, Etha wants me to find out what you're useful for."

Dirthamen stiffened. His mind wheeled back to the past where Elgar'nan had beaten him until he had learned of Dirthamen's ability to predict actions moments before they would happen. Pain seared across his torso where the scar remained from how Elgar'nan had forced Dirthamen's body beyond the limits.

Dirthamen took a deep breath, grateful the air was dry so his breathing didn't act up. "I suppose my only talent is magical theory," Dirthamen admitted, deciding it was best not to mention abilities of his family. The abilities which had made others view them as gods instead of people.

Besides, he was good at the theory behind magic, even if he couldn't use magic proper. He had come up with designs for the eluvians while his uncl—Solas and his younger brother June had been the ones who actually made them. Many creations within Elvhenan could trace some of their routes back to Dirthamen. Not all, but many.

"Creators have mercy on us," Mahvir muttered and rolled his eyes. "Not what I meant, Sahlin!" He wrapped his arm around Dirthamen's shoulders and stirred him away from the cave entrance. Mahvir moved over to one of the wagons. "You and me, we're going to fix this."

Dirthamen blinked and looked at the destroyed wagon. The wheels had been shattered and the frame torn. It wasn't beyond repair, even without magic, but, the labor required to fix it—No, he couldn't not without revealing how weak his body was.

"I can't," Dirthamen started to protest.

"For the love of Mythal!" Mahvir shouted. "That's it."

Dirthamen didn't even attempt to dodge Mahvir as the other man took hold of his shoulders. Dirthamen was forced over to a flat stone not far from the wagon.

"Sit on that rock there. You're not allowed to leave until you think of something you're good at." Mahvir glared at him and wagged a finger in Dirthamen's face. "I don't mean magic either. Sit or, I swear, I will tickle to within an inch of your life!"

For a moment, Dirthamen didn't move. This didn't feel right; yet, what harm would sitting on rock do? Even if it would be for a week. He moved over to it and settled himself there.

"Don't move, don't speak, and don't come back to the come back to the cave until you can give me an answer."

Mahvir stomped off, grumbling under his breath.

Dirthamen listened to the younger man leaving. His eyes locked once more on the sky. Soft ripples of magic could now be seen in small, subtle waves as they raced over the green tinged sky. Dirthamen watched; yet, the barrier would never last long enough, not without his abilities to manipulate time added to the seal.

He closed his eyes. He had failed.

"This is silly," Fear's voice echoed in Dirthamen's mind. "That mortal just left you there to stare at nothing."

"It is silly," Deceit agreed. "How much longer are you planning on playing around, Dirthy?"

"Yeah, you need to take back what's yours, not roll over like some defeated dog."

Dirthamen did his best to ignore the demons. They wanted to return to the life luxury. A life Dirthamen knew he didn't deserve. His gaze moved out across the landscape.

Grasses swayed in the light breeze. The thin strands danced with the air and flowers decorating the landscape. The sight was enough to calm Dirthamen's unease. He took in a deep breath of the rich air. His lungs expanding with ease in the dryness of the day. The sun was still cool enough it wouldn't hurt his burned skin. Still, it would get hotter as the day wore on.

Dirthamen closed his eyes. Images of the past danced around his mind, taunting him. He wanted it back. Not the wealth, father his family. The way they had been so long ago without the infighting and wars. He remembered the pain, trying to get his father to care and love him as he did Falon'Din.

In the end, Dirthamen had never belonged.

Think in the moment. He closed his eyes tighter. Images flashed before him. Sights and sounds, of places far from here. What was happening in court on the other side of the Elvhenan. He could see the parties bursting into life around the empire. Each praising their gods for another three centuries of protection from the shadows beyond the Abyss.

No, Dirthamen had to focus on himself. In the moment, in the now, in the space and time directly around. It was hard to pull his vision away from the parties, even harder from the images tantalizing him from the far past.

Each new attempt snapped his vision back to another time or another place. He didn't want to focus on himself. He couldn't. To do so would be to realize the pain in him. To feel it as more than echo from the future. It wasn't physical pain, rather everything in his life he had kept locked away and would never reveal to another.

Never.

*~ x ~*

Solas strode through the eluvian. His heart tingled with unease after the events of the peace gathering. Without Dirthamen's magic, there was no telling how long the seal would hold against the Shadow Ones. He let out a long, low breath. All of this was turning into a mess. There was still something more wrong at the heart of it all.

"You seem to being a little upset," Hallmar commented.

Solas straightened to see the dwarf had been waiting for his return. "No, everything is fine." For now, at least. There was a truce between them. Solas would be able to free many slaves during this time of peace. He didn't want unrest to spread. He wanted to teach the young and help guide them to a point they could stand on there.

Solas rubbed his temple.

No. He didn't want to be the one to fire the first shot. Still, this world couldn't remain as it was. There was too much pain in it for some of the people.

"Was there anything with the wanderers?" Solas asked Hallmar as the two of moved down into the heart of the sanctuary. A few of the people looked up from meals they were eating.

"Aye, your scouts be keeping a close eye on them." Hallmar looked up at Solas. "Ya really be thinking they attack a group just to be rid of them."

Solas closed his eyes a little then glanced at those former slaves eating and laughing within the massive room. "I don't know," Solas admitted. "There was a great deal of unrest at the truce after Mythal and I arrived." His gaze moved to the group brining out more food.

"It be more than that?" Hallmar pressed.

Solas started through the room towards the steps. The statue would be open right then allow entrance into the upper levels of the sanctuary. Only once out of earshot of the others, did Solas dare to speak with his friend. "It is. Dirthamen has gone missing. None of them are talking what's happened to him."

Hallmar frowned. "He be one of the older ones, right?"

"Yes, the second eldest son of Mythal and Elgar'nan," Solas stated. "Though only by a few minutes."

"His twin be saying something then? Twins be close, if I be recalling right."

Solas bowed his head. "No, and odder still, when I met with Mythal, Falon'Din was calling his twin an insect."

"Ain't there be a truce going on right now?" Hallmar asked.

"Which is what I find the most troubling," Solas confessed. "The others have never broken the few years of truce before and after the meeting. Even my sealing of the mines doesn't count since we never directly engaged in combat."

"But June's and the twin's forces looked ready to," Hallmar remarked.

"True, but I doubt June or the twins would be pleased if they had fought." Solas rubbed his eyes. A headache was starting to pulse through his skull. "With Mythal warning me about the others wanting to end the wanderers and now, this mess with Dirthamen missing," Solas trailed off. What worried wasn't the fact Dirthamen was missing, it was seal over the Abyss. "The Abyss's seal is going to decay at a rabid rate. It will hold, but splinter and could weaken to the point the point," Solas sighed and shook his head.

"His power really be that important to the seal?" Hallmar asked.

"It is," Solas confessed. He hesitated, ready to speak more openly about his nephew's abilities then decided better of it. Their magic was reason so many saw them as gods. If he ever showed those here his true power, well, they wouldn't see him as he had been trying to get them to see him.

He wasn't a god. None of them were.

"This be important and all, but it be sounding like something you should worry about long time from now. The false gods greed be what you need to be worrying about," Hallmar pointed out.

Solas let out a low, short breath. This was true.

Hallmar touched his arm. "You need a drink I be thinking."

A soft, short chuckle escaped Solas. "I doubt it will make my worries vanish, my friend."

"No, but it be helping a little."

Solas shook his head. "There is too much to do. Save the wine for a toast when more of my people are free." He moved off, arms behind his back. He couldn't let any others see such doubts in him right now.

Still, even as he walked, straight backed and sure, his mind was locked on the troubles of Dirthamen's disappearance. Dirthamen was a mystery now to Solas, a wildcard in the growing unrest among the people, the slaves, and the false gods. There was no telling why he had vanished.

*~ x ~*

Dirthamen snapped from the vision of his uncl—of Solas and his dwarf friend Hallmar. His uncl – Solas was focusing too much on the fact Dirthamen wasn't with the others. Still, Dithamen closed his eyes, the fact he wasn't was also troubling. Solas was right about the actions Falon'Din taking being against the truce.

Blood poured over Dirthamen's vision. The world was tearing itself apart faster than it should have. The more Solas pressed into the issue of Dirthamen not being with the others, the worse the distruction grew. Chaos was unleashed on the world. Homes were torn apart. Lives destroyed. Worse, blood flowed through the eluvians, staining all realms red with decay.

A war raged. Armies clashing as truths were revealed. Sylaise's truce with Elgar'nan shattered. Her forces moved against the combined armies of Falon'Din and Elgar'nan.

It worsened. Solas's hand was forced as Mythal lay sightless, flesh blackened. His rage shot towards all groups. All of them splitting as June joined with his eternal love for their sister. Andruil's madness split her from even Elgar'nan's side to form a fourth faction. Her daughter stood at her side.

Their people were drowning in their fallen. Ripped apart from all sides. Their families destroyed by Dirthamen's own. His heart twisted as he watched a mother clinging to her child. She knelt in a blood of the child's blood.

Dirthamen's eyes snapped open once more. The beauty of the field was lost in the light of moons, washed red with future blood. Fen'Harel's army matched, clashing with the forces which sought to destroy him.

Then two more armies joined the fray.

There was no voice of reason this time. No one to end the battles between them. None to draw this madness to a close.

There had to be away to ensure this future never happened. Away to better future for their people.

Dirthamen closed his eyes. He focused inward on his ability, shutting off all other senses so he could see, feel, taste, hear, and smell each new future as it unfolded around him.

Images and sounds raced through him. Each as bloody as the last. He saw himself siding with Solas, aiding him from the shadows or even beside his uncle. Not a good future. Still one drenched in deaths on a level the people could never hope to recover from.

"There is no hope," Fear hissed through Dirthamen's mind. "None. All will perish one way or another. Only you will remain, eternal."

Dirthamen ignored the demon at first then paused. He remained eternal. If he remained, in Solas's eyes, with the others! The images started to unfold. The path hard, and pained for him, but less bloody. The elvhen would survive. The others would unite to fight Fen'Harel. There was only one future where Solas succeeded.

Dirthamen drew himself from his visions and to the field once more. The blood had vanished from the night light grasses. The sharp contrast was breathtaking. The beauty almost overwhelming to behold. This was what Mahvir had meant by trying to live in a moment. Yet, moments were all too fleeting.

Despite this, there was a part of Dirthamen which longed to cling to this one moment. The peace of the night filled the air. Grasses were disturbed only by a soft, light breeze.

Dirthamen took a deep breath. For the first time in ages, he was content to just sit there and watch the shifting grass. To be lost in the now.

(Author's Note: So slowly pushing forward with the story. I am sorry for not updating in a while. I hope I can update on Saturday's, but, life, it's always so busy.)